


Getting the Words Out

by grimeslincoln



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: 5 Times, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, No Negan (Walking Dead)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-26 08:44:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9877385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimeslincoln/pseuds/grimeslincoln
Summary: Five times that Rick wanted to tell Michonne that he loved her and the one time he actually did.





	1. Chapter 1

i.

Rick and Michonne had been together for nearly three months when he first almost blurted out those three meaningful words.

Technically they had been together for years now, hidden feelings revealing themselves in the form of lingering gazes, soft touches and heartfelt reminders of each other's loyalty. They had been faithful partners almost since they had met, unquestioningly putting one another's lives before their own, protecting each other without thinking, both confiding their deepest, darkest secrets (of which there were many) in each other, but they had only recently progressed from companions to something more.

All it had taken was one late night, after a long day, on the sofa and a packet of out of date mints for both of them to finally give in to those long concealed feelings. And once it happened, it felt almost impossible that it had taken them so long to get to that point.

Rick didn't deny that he loved Michonne. Hell, he loved her more than he had ever loved anything in the world (with the exception of his children), and he done so with every fibre of his being. He knew that he loved her every time that he woke up with his legs tangled with hers, the sight of her soft skin bathed in the glow of the sunrise being the first thing he saw every morning. He knew it when he would watch her sit with Carl on the sofa in the quiet evenings, comic books sprawled over both of their laps as they laughed over secret jokes that he would never understand. And he knew it when he felt her toned body under his own, her lips against his neck, their bodies together as one.

It wasn't that he didn't love her, it was that he didn't know how to tell her. He knew that it should have been easy; that they had confessed to each other much more, but for some reason, every time that he tried to get the words out, it just felt wrong somehow.

He wanted it to be perfect, because Michonne deserved nothing short of that.

The first time that the syllables nearly tumble from his lips is in the early hours of a random winter morning. The two of them are curled under the soft sheets of their bed, Michonne's face is pressed in to the warmth of Rick's neck, her locks spread over the pillow case and one of her arms flung lazily across his chest, trapping him in place, with their legs messily intertwined.

They had been sleeping like this more often in the recent weeks, what with the arrival of the colder season and the biting chill that had begun to seep in to the house, causing them to roll towards the warmth of one another's bodies in the night.

It was around 1.26am when they were startled awake by the incessant cried of Judith echoing through the baby monitor. The weather had also affected her sleeping patterns, for she had become more restless in the night time, often awoken by the bitter cold despite the heater that Carl had kindly given up for her to have.

Michonne was the first to awaken, heavy eyelids fluttering open as she peeled her head away from where it had comfortably rested against the man next to her. She was reluctant to drag herself out of her sleeping position, taking her time to unravel her limbs from Rick's, her muscles aching as she done so, before sitting up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes with the back of her hand.

Rick had regained consciousness by the time she had sat up, the loss of warmth and contact having awoken him. He took a moment to regain his senses, a small frown etched in to his forehead as he looked around the dark rook, face masked by the shadows, before noticing Michonne's figure perched at the side of the bed, ready to tend to the crying little girl.

He propped himself up slightly so that he was leant on his elbow, stifling a yawn at the same time.

"I can get her," he spoke, voice husky from sleep, tired eyes barely open.

She smirked, touched that he was offering despite how obviously exhausted he was.

"It's fine, I don't mind," she responded, glancing back at him over her shoulder, her heart swelling with adoration as she took in the sight of his curly hair, disarrayed from sleep, and the slight pout that had formed on his lips thanks to the loss of her body next to him.

She allowed herself to stare at his silhouette in the darkness for a moment longer before rising to her feet, her body clad in a pair of loose cotton trousers and one of Rick's old t-shirts that she had grown attached too, and leaving the room.

Rick was left alone in the darkness of their bedroom, the white sheets feeling too cold against his skin without Michonne's body against his. He flung himself down on to the mattress, head bouncing against he pillows, as he waited for his partner's return, aware that he would be unable to go back to sleep until she was next to him.

The house was quiet, eerily almost, especially after the constant noise that the group had become accustomed to on the road, whether it be the groans of the walkers that trailed hungrily after them, the rustle of bushes as small woodland creatures ran through the shrubs or just the noise of Abraham's ear-bursting snores. As deadly as making noise could be in this new world, Rick enjoyed it; noise meant that the people he cared about were safe and breathing. That they were alive.

The stillness that came with residing at Alexandria made him uneasy, put his teeth on edge until he just wanted to shout to break the tranquility.

However, his ears were soon greeted by the pleasant note of Michonne's voice being carried though the house.

A warm smile graced his lips as he listened to the low, reassuring tones of her soothing Judith, expecting her to ease his daughter back off to sleep before returning back to bed.

However, when Michonne padded back in to the room she was not alone; Judith was clutched in her arms, the young girl's head tucked in to her chest, eyes flicking round curiously and a lock of Michonne's hair wrapped tightly in one of her fists, as if refusing to separate from the woman.

"Hey there," Rick immediately cooed at the sight of his daughter, propping himself up so that he was sat against the headboard, and flicking on the lamp that stood on the bedside cabinet, casting the room in a dim yellow light.

The sudden introduction of light caused Judith to rub at her eyes with the hand that wasn't attached to Michonne, lifting her head slightly to peer over at her father.

"She wasn't going back off to sleep..and I thought she might be more comfortable in here with us," Michonne explained to him, smiling sheepishly as she settled back down on to the mattress, scooting over so that she was pressed in to the space underneath Rick's arm, tucking her legs under his and allowing Judith to stay sprawled over her chest.

"I don't mind that, do I?" he grinned back, speaking more to the baby in Michonne's arms than to her.

He stared adoringly down at the two most important women in his life, cuddled together next to him and couldn't help the swell of joy that formed in his chest; it didn't take a genius to figure out that both of Rick's children were absolutely smitten with the samurai warrior, almost as much as he was; Judith often refused to sleep at all unless Michonne was in the room when she drifted in to unconsciousness and she was the only person that could make the little girl laugh so hard that her cheeks flushed red.

And as for Carl; Michonne was his best friend in every sense of the word. Rick had lost count of all the times that she had sat with him in the late hours of the evening, both of them joking around in the young boys room until they feel asleep, slouched in such random positions that Rick was forced to wake them both up, mainly to avoid the complaints of aching necks and cramped limbs the next morning.  

It meant the world to Rick that his children adored Michonne as much as he did and the fact that she had immediately accepted them as if they were her own only made him love her even more.

As he looked down at the beautiful woman curled next to him, her slender body wrapped in his clothes and long hair framing the sharp angles of her face, with his beloved daughter held protectively in her arms, humming her softly back to sleep with the melody of an unfamiliar nursery rhyme, he almost couldn't stop himself from blurting out the indescribable feelings of adoration that were building within him.

"I-" he started before he could stop himself, his rough voice breaking through the silence that had once again consumed the house. He managed to bite his tongue before he could utter another word, heart pounding slightly at the thought of what he had almost professed, but Michonne had already turned to look at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue.

He racked his brain for something to say, too scared to carry on with what he was about to tell her.

"I-" his eyes flickered down to hers, "I'm glad that she has you."

He let out a shaky breath that he was unaware he had been holding. His words were still true; sometimes he had to stop to think about how fortunate Judith was to be being brought up by a woman who loved her so unconditionally and would put her life before her own without a seconds hesitation, despite not being her own blood.

It wasn't what he had wanted to say, but it was true.

Michonne's features softened at his meaningful confession, dark eyes glistening with emotion and breath hitched in her throat, hands instinctively moving to stroke the soft blonde curls atop Judith's head.

She had so many things that she wished to tell the man sitting besides her, so many words that she wanted to speak in order to convey how much his words meant to her, but instead she she settled for stretching over to place a soft kiss to his lips.

Both of their lips were dry from where they had been asleep and the positioning uncomfortable thanks to the small child who had dozed off against Michonne's torso, but it still felt perfect, their mouths pressed together in order to say all of the things that words could not.

They both pulled apart after a few seconds, too tired and aware of Judith's presence to let themselves even consider taking things any further.

Rick slithered back down the bed so that he was lying on his back, leaving his left arm outstretched as a gesture for Michonne to curl up next to him. She soon followed, nestling in to the warmth of Rick's body, adjusting the sleeping little girl on top of her so that she was burrowed comfortably in the middle of them.

Rick took a last, lingering look at the ethereal woman and the toddler pressed against him before switching off the lamp that lit the room, shrouding them in the darkness of the night.

He fell asleep to the sound of the breathing of two most important people in the world to him, brain filled with thoughts about how he got so lucky.


	2. Chapter 2

ii.

The next time that the words almost escaped Rick’s lips was during a moment of pure panic and terror, his mind so wracked with fear over the thought of losing the woman that he loved that he almost couldn’t stop himself.

Rick, Michonne, Glenn, Tara and Rosita had been on a routine run to an old, dilapidated supermarket, a few miles out from the community, that they hadn’t yet raided. It was nothing they hadn’t done before; they would distract any surrounding walkers with an egg timer (a trick that Jesus had taught them), take out any of the remaining undead inside, grab anything they could use and then leave. In and out, quick and easy.

They had reached their destination just before noon, the dusty old car that they were all piled in too pulling up to the outskirts of the supermarket, close enough that they could easily escape to it if things went south but not close enough to draw the attention of the sluggish walkers that wandered the premises.

Glenn was the first to hop out of the car, stretching his cramped limbs, quickly followed by the others.

“Ugh, we really need to find a bigger car next time,” Tara complained, her muscles aching from where she had been stuffed in to the backseat, cushioned in between Michonne and Rosita.

"Tell me about it,” Michonne quickly agreed, lifting her hand to her aching neck. Rick immediately noticed her signs of discomfort, instinctually moving so that he was hovering behind her shoulder, lifting his hand to gently massage the knot in her neck without even thinking about it.

The action was small but Michonne appreciated it.

The five of them looked out over the building that they would be searching, assessing the area and trying to decide whether they would have to make any adjustments to their current plan.

The supermarket itself was only small but the area that it was in was sheltered and away from the main road, so they were hoping it hadn’t yet been emptied of supplies. The perimeter of the building was littered with the dead, their gory figures shuffling around without purpose or direction, merely waiting for anything to come along that they could devour. There were only about two dozen of them, nothing too concerning, but still they had decided that it would be safer to draw them away than to risk getting caught up in the middle of them.

“Come on, let’s get moving,” Rick ordered, voice quiet so as not to draw attention, nodding his head in the direction that they would travel.

He moved first, his touch lingering on the back of Michonne’s neck for a second before setting off, and she naturally followed, drawing her sword in case of any stray walkers that they may encounter.

The five of them made their way across the outskirts of the parking lot until they were positioned so that they could easily run to the entrance once the walkers were pre-occupied.

“Ready?” Rick turned to Glenn, who was in possession of the egg timer, his eyes quickly flickering over the group to make sure that they were all there.

Glenn nodded in confirmation, his fingers making quick work of setting the timer. Once it was done, he pulled his arm back and hurled the object as far as he possibly could away from where they were standing.

They waited with baited breath, anticipating whether or not this trick would actually work, until the ringing of the timer cut through the air, grabbing the attention of the meandering undead.

The half decomposed bodies automatically began staggering in the direction of the sound, clearing a path to the entrance of the supermarket.

Rick couldn’t help the grin that instantly spread over his face at the realisation that the trick had worked, looking back at his friends, who all wore similarly excited expressions.

“Let’s move,” he spoke up, quick to get back to the plan at hand; as great as the distraction was, he didn’t want to get ahead of himself. He knew from experience that the situation could turn within seconds and he didn’t want to chance anything.

The five of them fell in to formation, travelling across the parking lot and towards the entrance, treading lightly and staying vigilant, on the watch for any strays that broke away from the group of undead that had gathered around the timer.

They reached the front doors in seconds and Rick used the hand that wasn’t gripping his gun to push them open; it took a little effort to make them budge, likely due to how they hadn’t been used in years, but soon they were swinging open.

They filtered in to the store one by one, Rick pulling the doors shut behind them, their weapons raised in preparation for any dangers that lurked inside, heads whipping around to assess the environment.

Sunlight filtered in through the windows that lined the walls, illuminating the area. The contents of the room appeared to be in fairly good condition; the shelves were partially stocked, a layer of dust covering all of the items on them, however there was a foul stench that consumed the air around the meat section, which had been left to fester away, attracting hoards of flies.

Rick let out a low whistle as a means to attract any walkers that may have been lurking in the back aisles; in response there was the sound of shuffling in one of the aisles closer to the group.

They all spun in the direction of the noise, weapons at the ready, to see two walkers stumbling hungrily towards them, teeth gnashing wildly at the scent of fresh flesh and skin loose and discoloured over their bones.

Rosita and Glenn moved first, unsheathing their knives and striding forwards, avoiding the grabbing hands of the monsters and driving their blades in the the backs of their skulls with ease. There was the sound of crunching bone and spraying blood before the two bodies crumpled to the floor.

They waited a few more minutes, allowing any other walkers to wander out, however none came.

“Okay,” Rick started, “Tara and Rosita, you take these front aisles; you know what to look for. Michonne, Glenn and I will take the back of the store. Meet back by the doors in twenty minutes."

The two women nodded in understanding before getting to work, disappearing behind the shelving units.

Rick, Michonne and Glenn made their way to the back area, each taking separate rows in order to make the process quicker. The faster that they got out of there, the better.

Rick watched as Michonne disappeared behind the racks of canned goods before getting to work himself, scouring the units for anything that would be of use.

He made quick work of grabbing tins of food, batteries and any sort of medicine, stuffing everything in to the large duffel bag that was slung lazily over his shoulder.

He was nearing the end of the aisle, his bag full to the brim, weighing heavy on his back, when the silence of the store was disrupted by a panicked shout

 _Michonne_.

The sound cut through him like the serrated edge of a knife, sending a shiver of icy fear through him as it sunk in that she was in danger. 

He immediately spurred in to action, sprinting as fast as humanely possible towards the direction that the cry came from, finally spotting Michonne four aisles away from where he had been.

The woman was pinned against one of the tall shelving units, trapped in place by a decaying walker that was hungrily grabbing at her, it’s yellowing teeth dangerously close to her face. She was attempting to push it away but her fingers couldn’t get a grip on the slippery skin that came away from the bone every time she attempted to grab at it. Every time that she tried to make a grab for her katana, which lay abandoned a few feet away on the floor, the creature would advance further on her.

The shelves that Michonne was wedged against shook dangerously from the weight of the two bodies, cans of out-of-date liquid clattering to the floor. 

Rick moved forwards without hesitation, unable to breath through the terror that had overtaken his body, however before he could reach Michonne the shelving unit finally gave in, crashing down to the floor and taking both Michonne and the walker with it.

Rick watched on helplessly, his heart stopping in his chest as she disappeared from sight, the walker landing on top of her, blocking his view of her body.

He ran forwards, eyes filled with tears and breath stuck in his throat as he reached the tangle of bodies, reaching out to grab at the undead. He managed to get a grip on it’s bony shoulder, using all of his strength to pull it off of Michonne and throw it to the ground away from her, allowing him to take a clean shot at its head.

The bullet hit the thing straight between its lifeless eyes, sending blood and brain matter splattering over the mouldy floor tires.

Rick didn’t even hesitate long enough to watch the thing go still, already sinking to his knees beside Michonne, who was slowly pulling herself up in to a sitting position.

Before she could speak to reassure him that she was okay, he had her face in his hands, calloused fingers brushing against the soft skin of her cheeks, eyes frantically checking her for any signs of bites or scratches.

He went to move his hands to her arms to continue his search, however before he could, Michonne’s palms were on the sides of his face, stopping him before he could go any further.

“Hey,” her voice was soft and gentle as she spoke to him, drawing his eyes to her own.

She looked slightly shaken, pupils wide and hair astray, but she was okay, he realised.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she reassured him breathlessly, stroking her thumb over the stubble on his cheek and maintaining eye contact, letting him know that that she was still there. Still with him.

“You’re okay,” he repeatedly quietly after a moment, speaking more to himself than to Michonne. He stared back at her, eyes wide and unblinking, drinking in every detail of her face as if trying to memorise them.

He scanned over the soft planes of her skin, scattered with scars and blemishes which offered a reminder of the struggles she had endured, and the curve of her plump lips which had had explored so many times that he would be able to identify them as if they were his own. He couldn’t pull his gaze away from the dark pools of her eyes, which appeared shaken but still watchful, so familiar that the sight of them was instantly calming. He couldn’t imagine what he would do if he was never able to look in to those eyes again.

As he studied her, he couldn’t help but think what would have happened if he hadn’t pulled the walker off in time; if it had managed to sink its rotting teeth in to her warm flesh, contaminating her bloodstream. His mind flashed with images; Michonne’s body gradually becoming overtaken with the fever until she was too hot to touch, her eyes falling shut for the last time as she succumbed to the infection, having to put the cool metal of the barrel of his gun against her head and pulling the trigger in order to stop her reanimating as one of _them_.

Rick couldn’t bare to think about life without her, without the one beacon of hope that he could hold on too in this dying world. Even after all of the loss that he had endured, he didn’t think that he could survive no longer having her.

Michonne seemed to sense the dark path that his mind was beginning to take because she leant forwards to rest her forehead against his, interrupting his morbid train of thought and bringing his attention back to reality.

“I’m not leaving you,” her voice was firm and certain, despite the fact that there was no guarantee she was speaking the truth. “I’m never leaving you. We’re the ones who live,” she repeated the words that had become a mantra to them.

He stared back at her, heart still pounding in his chest and the last dregs of adrenaline pumping through his veins, head filled with the thought of losing her as he opened his mouth, feeling the sudden urge to tell her how much she meant to him.

It made him sick to think that she could have died, not knowing that he loved her so much that sometimes it hurt. Not knowing that she was his entire world.

"I-" he started to speak, voice sounding too loud compared to the silent surroundings of the store. "I can't lose you." He ended up spitting out, his sudden burst of courage dissipating.

 _This isn't the time_ , he told himself. He didn't want the first time that he said it to be when they were crouched in a dusty aisle in the middle of a dingy supermarket, both dripping with sweat and drenched in walker blood, three of their friends only a few feet away.

"You're not going to lose me," Michonne reassured him, thumb still caressing his cheek, a slight frown etching itself in to her brow. "I'm not going anywhere."

And Rick believed her. He knew that the future was unpredictable and that they had to take everyday as it came because they were never guaranteed a tomorrow, but he believed her; she would never willingly leave him.

And so he forced himself to nod, swallowing down his fears, letting Michonne knew that he understood.

"Come on, let's finish up. The sooner we get out of here, the better."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter; who doesn't love a little bit of angst! 
> 
> Also, be sure to leave any comments or feedback below; they help me write faster! 
> 
> Twitter: @grimeslincoln


	3. Chapter 3

iii.

Rick sometimes found himself experiencing feelings of self-doubt. It was rare, considering that the new world didn't offer much time to sit around and dwell on decisions, but it happened. And when it did, he could never seem to drag himself out of the rut of uncertainty and insecurity that he fell in to, stuck there until somebody came along to pull him out.

It was often a close member of his family that found him when he was trapped in one of those moods; sometimes Carol would sit with him, using her usual blunt tone to speak harsh yet truthful words until he was snapped from his fog, or Daryl would stand in the doorway, never knowing what to say, so instead distracting his brother with the offer of doing a perimeter check or going on some type of hunt. 

But usually it was Michonne who would stumble across him, or more often actively seek him out (she seemed to be able to sense when Rick was down and needed someone to guide him back).

She would sit herself down next to him, letting silence fall between them as she carefully picked out her words, thinking about the right things to say, before finally speaking.

The first time that it had happened had been after the fall of the prison, a few days after they had fled the house and Rick's fatal encounter with the intruders. The three of them had set up camp in the woods, too wary to stay in another house and so instead deciding to camp underneath the sprawling branches of the trees, crunchy leaves and thick roots underneath them. Carl had been fast asleep, so exhausted from the events of the day that he had dropped off almost instantly. Rick had been stretched out on the floor, Michonne's body a few feet from his, when the stillness of the woods began to allow the self-doubt to creep in.

He knew the signs all too well; his mind became consumed with self-deprecating thoughts, swirling with questions about whether he was doing the right thing and if his actions were justified.

Eventually the thoughts became overwhelming and he forced himself to his feet, careful not to wake the others around him as he stumbled away, ending up crouched against a tree trunk, his breathing laboured and mind clouded.

Michonne clearly hadn't been asleep because she soon found him, not hesitating for a second before coming to his aid, resting a light hand on his shoulder, still testing the waters of their relationship, which had only recently become closer.

She had managed to talk him down with soft and reassuring words until eventually he was able to pull himself from the mind set.

That had been the first time of more to come.

It had happened again after the showdown with Joe and his group, the night dark and deadly, mutilated bodies scattered around them.

Carl had eventually separated himself from Michonne's protective embrace and she had settled him in the back of the car, stroking his hair until he eventually drifted in to unconsciousness. Daryl was cleaning himself up in the front seat of the vehicle, face bruised and swollen, clothes coated in his own drying blood.

Michonne found Rick sat against the side of the car, eyes distant and unseeing, entire body shaking violently and face stained a deep red, giving the impression of a wild animal that had just finished feeding on its prey.

He didn't react as she sunk down next to him, instead continuing to stare off in to space. She couldn't tell whether he was actively ignoring her or was in such shock that he was oblivious to anything going on around him.

She sat there for what felt like hours next to him, the road hard and cold underneath her, the sun beginning to set in the sky, casting a warm, orange glow over them. It was this introduction of light, the shift from night to day, that appeared to bring Rick to attention.

"I shouldn't have done that." The words startled Michonne, who had become accustomed to the silence. His voice was hoarse, either from the shouting hours earlier or the fact that he hadn't used it in a while.

She pondered what to say to him, trying to decipher what head space he was in. The horrific scene the night before had been startling and gruesome, a side to Rick that she had known was there but hadn't yet experienced. Not fully. But she didn't hold it against him; if he hadn't done what he had, it would have been their bodies that were beginning to decompose on the ground.

"We'd be dead if you hadn't." It was true. Granted, maybe he had slipped over the edge of sanity for a moment, possibly taking too much pleasure in gutting the attacker like a piece of meat, but the action itself wasn't wrong.

"I couldn't-" Rick's voice broke with emotion, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I couldn't stop myself. I just- I saw what that-that _thing_ was doing to Carl and I snapped."

"I know," Michonne told him, voice gentle, as it always was around him. "And it's okay."

Rick turned to look at her for the first time all night and she tried to ignore the gory sight of his countenance, dark with dried blood, and the vacant expression of his eyes.

She had seen worse things in this new world than a man trying to protect his family.

"Thankyou," Rick's tone was sincere. It was almost impossible to believe that the man speaking to her now, thanking her for just being there, was the same person who only hours before had sunk his teeth in to the pulsating flesh of a man's throat as easily as biting in to a piece of steak. "And what I did...it wasn't _just_ for Carl."

The words hung heavy between them, the meaning clear but not something that either of them were brave enough to delve deeper in to. They would save that conversation for another day, when they were both feeling much braver and less vulnerable.

Michonne left Rick leant against the panels of the car, aware that he wasn't yet ready to move, to join Carl in the backseat.

The next time that it happened was after Terminus, sat in the church, the sound of their family echoing around them as they sat together, and then after the devastating loss they experienced at the Grady Memorial Hospital, when they were meandering along the roads with no purpose or direction, nothing to keep them going.

Then again when Reg had his throat slit in front of the entire community, after Rick shot a bullet in to Pete's head without flinching, not even a seconds hesitation before he pulled the trigger, the other man's brain matter splattering over the paving stones like paint as his wife watched on in despair. Michonne had found him on the porch of their house that night, quiet and lacking remorse, but still doubting himself.

And then finally after they had taken back Alexandria from the hoards of the dead, covered in so much blood and guts and skin that they couldn't even see themselves, as Carl lay motionless in a hospital bed, maimed and disfigured, uncertain whether or not he would pull though.

That was the worst time; when she had crept in to the room to find Rick sobbing uncontrollably besides his son, body trembling, crying so hard that he could barely breathe.

She had hovered next to him, snaking an arm around his shoulders, probably the most she had ever touched him, soothing him until he had calmed down.

The next time, the time when he almost confesses his feelings to her, is after the loss of an Alexandrian. They had decided that it would be beneficial to start training the less-abled members of the community; Rosita has been teaching a small group of them for a few months but it was decided that they needed to experience the world outside of the walls that had protected them for so long.

Rick, Michonne, Sasha and Rosita had taken a group of about fifteen a mile or so out, where they could complete target practice without drawing any of the undead to the safe zone. It was a routine activity; they had carried it out a couple of times before and it had gone without incident or injury.

Except that this time, it went wrong.

The Alexandrians they were training were practicing shooting, Rick, Michonne and Rosita assessing them and helping them out with any improvements they could be making whilst Sasha kept watch, on the lookout for any walkers that the gunshots attracted.

The area was practically desolate, most of the walkers that resided there having already been dispatched, which was the main reason that they had picked the spot in the first place.

One of the trainees, Susan, decided to take a break, worn out and aching from the vigorous training, moving to sit against one of the trees on the outer edge of the clearing as she caught her breath.

Sasha was pre-occupied, focused on aiming for a stray walker that was sloping through the trees, her finger poised in the trigger of her rifle.

She lined up the shot before taking the creature out with ease, it's body barely making a noise as it fell to the muddy ground.

Sasha had been so distracted with taking out one walker that nobody had noticed the other one until it was too late, only being alerted to its presence when Susan's pained and desperate screams echoed through the glade.

Everybody snapped to attention, weapons poised in the direction of the sound, but it was too late, the walker already had its jaws around her neck, hungrily ripping the flesh away, sending thick red blood spraying everywhere like a burst pipe.

Michonne was the first to reach the scene, driving her katana through the walker's skull, the sound of shattering bone ringing out before the body became limp, its mouth turning slack against the woman's throat.

They pulled the lifeless body off of the woman, but it was too late; a chunk of flesh was missing from her neck and thick blood oozed from the wound uncontrollably, spilling down her front and blemishing her clothes.

It took only moments for her to bleed out, her skin already pale and colourless, body unmoving.

The other Alexandrian's stood in pure shock, some of them crying, some of them too horrified to even move.

Rick and his family watched on, having seen and experienced far worse, but still feeling the loss.

Rick took it upon himself to finish her off, putting a shot between her eyes to ensure that she didn't come back, hands shaking with emotion despite the fact that he barely knew her.

She was a kind lady, all bright smiles and cheery greetings, much like the rest of the sheltered members of the community. She helped out the elderly; took meals to those who couldn't leave their houses and spent time with others who had nobody else for company.

He had only interacted with her a handful of times, although he recollected that she had gifted him with a basket of fruit on one of their first days at the community.

And now she was dead.

They carried her body back to Alexandria and Rick helped Tobin dig a grave, one more among many. Somebody was tasked with painting her name on to a panel of the wall.

Michonne found Rick in their bedroom that evening, having returned from her shift on the wall. The man was perched on the edge of the mattress, head hung low in his hands, shoulders heavy with the weight of the world.

She knew what mood he was in from his body language; he appeared withdrawn, as if he had closed in on himself. Michonne hesitated for a moment, wondering whether he wanted company or would prefer to sit in solitude, before moving in to the room, sitting herself down next to him.

She knew that his mood wasn't from the death of Susan alone but an accumulation of everything that had ever gone wrong and every decision that he had ever regretted. And she understood; he had so much responsibility rested on his shoulders that she was surprised he could even stand, the lives of the entire community, and his family, in his hands. And every time something went wrong, or a decision turned out to be the wrong one, he blamed himself, because he had convinced himself that he was accountable for everything.

And yes, she admitted that occasionally he could be hasty and make quick decisions in the heat of the moment, sometimes more concerned about getting revenge and showcasing his power than thinking logically, but there was no doubt in her mind that Rick was the best leader that they could have ever hoped for. Even when the cracks in his authority began to show and he started to crumble, he would always piece himself back together, would always come through for the people that he considered kin.

"What happened today," Michonne broke the quiet of the room, piecing her words together methodically, whilst still speaking the truth, "wasn't your fault. You weren't to know what was going to happen." 

Rick didn't respond for a long moment, the words hanging between them. She wondered if he was going to reply, if he wanted to have this conversation, or if he just wanted to be alone.

"I shoulda known that they weren't ready," he finally spoke, voice quiet and uncertain. "I shoulda waited longer before taking' them outside of the walls. It wasn't safe."

"Nothing is safe anymore, Rick. They would have had to go out their eventually and no matter how long you waited, the same thing still could've happened. You can't stop people from getting hurt anymore, not in this world."

He knew that what she was saying was true, deep down he knew, but it didn't help to ease the knot of guilt in his chest. And the guilt wasn't just for Susan, hell he hadn't even known the woman, but for every person that he had ever lost under his leadership.

Dale, whose opinion he should have listened too instead of ignoring him like what he thought didn't matter.

Shane, whose signs of betrayal he should have been able to see before it was too late.

Lori, who he should have treated better instead of acting as if she were a stranger, allowing her to die thinking that he didn't love her.

Hershel, whose death was caused by the fact that he got too comfortable, letting himself think that the Governor was gone and that they were safe.

Beth, who got a bullet in the brain because he hadn't been able to think of a better plan to get her out of that place alive.

The losses piled up, until they were all that he could see; every bad decision that he had ever made flashing in front of his eyes like a morbid slideshow.

“I shoulda known better,” he shook his head, messy curls flying over his forehead. “I’m no good for these people, I can’t keep them safe, I can’t keep anyone safe!” his voice became hysterical, breathing rate quickening until he was panting.

“Hey, hey, listen to me!” she ordered him, using her hand to turn his head to look at her. She knew how this ended; he would spiral down in to an abyss of self-loathing and guilt like he always did unless there was someone to guide him out of it.

Michonne hated seeing him so lost and unsure, having become so used to the self-assured, overconfident Rick that he presented to the rest of the world that she often forgot about the broken side of him. The side that he only allowed her to bear witness to.

“You are the best thing that ever happened to these people; they would have been dead a long time ago if you hadn’t come along and forced them to face reality. Yes, people have died, but people _always_ die Rick, they always have and they always will, there’s nothing you can do to stop that.” Her voice was so certain, so full of faith in him, that he couldn’t help but listen to her.

“You do your best baby,” she soothed him, the term of endearment slipping off of her tongue without her intending it too, “that’s all you can do.”

Rick’s tongue darted out to wet his lips as he contemplated her words, allowing them to sink in before nodding his head, letting Michonne know that she had got through to him.

He sat there, trying to put in to words how much he appreciated her support; how thankful he was that she stood by his side, never judging, even when he hit rock bottom.

He wanted to tell her that he loved her and that he didn’t know what he would do without her but before he could even attempt to string the words together she was standing up, moving to begin carrying out her nightly routine.

And so he reached out, grabbing her wrist gently in his hand, causing her to turn back to him, confusion written over her features.

Rick chewed thoughtfully on his lip, debating whether to blurt the words out, before deciding against it, instead deciding to pull her back towards him so that she was stood in between his legs, her body so close that he had to tilt his head back to see her beautiful face.

She seemed to understand the affection that he craved because she shifted closer, allowing Rick to rest his head against the toned planes of her stomach, his hands fisting the back of her shirt in order to cling on to her. Michonne’s hands instinctively found their way in to the curls at the nape of his neck, running her fingertips through the soft hair as she held him.

They stood like that for what felt like an eternity, finding comfort in the presence of one another’s bodies, so close it was if they were merged together, not needing words in order to convey how they felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter: @grimeslincoln


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